


A Call From the FBI

by chronicopheliac



Series: Inspired by Show Tunes [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack, Dinner Party, Drunk Dialing, Drunk Will, Hannibal has no control, Hannibal is Rude, M/M, Phone Sex, Season/Series 02, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 17:11:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6292846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicopheliac/pseuds/chronicopheliac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal's phone rings in the middle of a dinner party. RUDE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Call From the FBI

**Author's Note:**

> Just making a note that, although Will is drunk, the nature of the fic makes it so that I don't think a dubious consent tag is really appropriate.
> 
> My note from tumblr: I’ve been listening to showtunes while writing OTHER fics, and then A Call From the Vatican came on and I literally wrote this in 45 minutes holy fuck. So it’s completely unedited, sorry, hahaha, this is crack.
> 
> [Here's a link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvhMAw6gCDw) to my favourite version of this song (mostly because the performance is hilarious), if you're interested.

_Ring!_

All eyes are on Hannibal. It’s not a huge scandal, but it’s enough to set the guests tittering amongst themselves, whatever topic they had been discussing forgotten.

_Ring!_

There’s a strained set to Hannibal’s jaw as he admonishes himself for forgetting something so simple as turning off the sound on his mobile. It’s positively _common_ that he would forget such a thing.

_Ring!_

“Aren’t you going to answer that, Doctor Lecter?” One of his guests inquires, her mouth quirking up in the kind of smile that a person gets when they’re pleased to witness a person’s failure.

“Yes, of course, my apologies,” Hannibal nods, arranging his features to look contrite. He considers breaking his rule about killing within his social circle.

He reaches into his pocket, swiping the screen to answer before another ring can disrupt the party, which means he doesn’t look to see who is calling. It doesn’t matter, he won’t be long.

“Hello?”

“Hannibal,” comes the unmistakable voice, though somewhat… slurred?

“Who is it,” asks another guest, eyes shining with interest.

Clearing his throat, Hannibal ignores the question, pacing away from the dinner table. “Is there something I can help you with,” he inquires into the phone.

“I was just wondering, you know,” says Will, and Hannibal is now certain that Will is drunk. “I noticed that you’ve been drawing me a lot. I found the other drawings, you didn’t hide them very well. Maybe you wanted me to see them.”

Hannibal freezes mid-step.

“There were naked ones, and I was surprised, ‘cause I guess I assumed that you had seen me naked when you were fucking with my head,” Will continues.

“Indeed,” Hannibal says, straightening his posture so as to not appear alarmed to the guests, who are staring at him with blatant fascination.

“But I’m naked right now, and I don’t think it matches your drawings,” Will sounds _disappointed_. A lesser man might falter at such an admission, perhaps cough with surprise. Hannibal considers himself fortunate that he is not a lesser man.

“Of course not,” Hannibal says, doing his best to maintain an even, professional tone.

“And I mean, I’m a shower more than a grower, but you’re pretty generous with my cock. I guess I should thank you, it’s flattering, right? But I’m not _that_ big. You’d know if you looked.”

As much self-control as Hannibal can claim to have, he’s unable to prevent the surprised cough this time, turning away from his guests with more force than he intends.

“Doctor Lecter! Is this call more important than your guests? He’s not usually so rude,” pipes up yet another guest.

“It’s okay if you want to, you know. To look, I mean. I could show you. If you wanted a live model, that is…” Will’s voice rumbles in Hannibal’s ear, setting his nerves alight with arousal.

Hannibal whirls around to face the guests, hoping he doesn’t look as off-kilter as he feels. “Yes, I am very sorry, it’s…” he searches for an excuse, and settles on a half-truth. “It’s from the FBI. Quantico.”

Into the phone, he says: “Please continue, Agent… Crawford.” He can hear heavy breathing on the line.

“Well whaddya know, I guess I do grow a little. Thank god I don’t suffer from whiskey dick, right?”

It’s crude. His words are so very crude, but Hannibal can feel the blood rushing to his own dick anyway, and he leaves the dining room for the kitchen. It wouldn’t do to have a bunch of people who thrive on gossip seeing him this way.

“Will,” Hannibal says with a fierce whisper.

“Maybe next time I’m over for dinner, I’ll pose for you. Just tell me where you want me.”

Hannibal has to brace himself against the counter.

“Where are you right now, Will?”

There’s a breathy chuckle, muffled against fabric. Of course he’d be home, he wouldn’t get drunk and strip naked anywhere else, would he?

“My office at Quantico. I forgot I had some whiskey in a cabinet, and this case has got me all wound up, so I was unwinding,” Will says, and the last word is punctuated by a soft moan. Is he _touching himself_?

“You are drunk, Will. I will come get you.”

“I bet you will,” Will replies, smirk evident in his voice. Then, silence. Will ended the call.

It takes every last shred of self-control Hannibal has to return to the dining room with dignity, looking very sorrowful and exasperated.

“I am very sorry, my esteemed guests, but it looks like my presence is required at Quantico for a matter of some importance. If you are amenable, you may finish your dinner, but I’m afraid that I must otherwise cut the evening short. I thank you all for your understanding,” he gives a quick bow and leaves the room, only breaking into a brisk walk when he’s out of sight.

It occurs to him that he’s never felt the need to rush toward anything in his life, but any discomfort he might feel at the idea is overpowered by the anticipation of seeing Will, naked and flushed, in his office. He doesn’t even take the time to find his jacket, only grabbing his keys and just about flying out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS SHORT LITTLE MESS.
> 
> I'm also on tumblr as [chronicopheliac](http://chronicopheliac.tumblr.com)!


End file.
